


Days of Why and How

by allihearisradiogaga



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Dominance, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hanahaki Disease, Hotel Sex, Sad Ending, Sex, Smut, Touch-Starved, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24331744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allihearisradiogaga/pseuds/allihearisradiogaga
Summary: Leon and Ada's relationship is off-and-on, characterized by the occasional nighttime rendezvous and little else.  Tonight, Ada meets Leon for a night of passion, just as she has many times for the last twenty years.  But this night is different.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Ada Wong
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	Days of Why and How

**Author's Note:**

> I was in the mood for some spicy fic, but at the same time I wanted angst, so... Plus it's been way too long since I've written anything for Resident Evil.
> 
> I think this fic works better if you don't read the tags first tbh but I also understand needing to label stuff online. 
> 
> Thanks to @hobbit_hedgehog for the beta!
> 
> * * *
>
>> "Something you’re doing ain’t doing me good  
> I can feel it in my blood  
> Thunder struck  
> Wheel spun  
> I’ll believe anyone  
> Always looking, never found  
> How I’m keeping my head down  
> These days of why and how, get so hard  
> I’m not saying another word."

The door was open just a sliver, so that the light from the inside was able to just barely throw a non-shadow into the dimly lit hallway. Ada looked from the crack of the door to the small plate alongside it—327. This was the same that she had received in the message from Leon earlier.

> Hotel Armond. 9:30.  
>  Room 327.  
>  L

She could feel the twinge of a smile begin to tug at the edge of her mouth. It had been too long since their last rendezvous.

She reached out and pushed the door slowly open, her right hand resting lightly at her side, where the handgun was strapped to her upper thigh in case she might need it. She did not think she would, but she had not survived as long as she had because she entered into situations unprepared.

As she opened the door, she found that the room inside was lit less than she had originally thought. The lights were on, but they were dimmed, and a few candles flickered from their spots around the room. A vase of flowers stood on a side table, a royal purple bell-shaped bloom interspersed with some leaves that Ada didn’t recognize. She stepped slowly inward and closed the door softly behind her, not letting it make a noise as it came to rest in the jamb.

She stepped softly into the room, her high heels muffled by the carpeted floor. She was surprised when a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind—one form over the shoulder, the other around her waist. She fought her instinct, which would have lowering her center of gravity and bracing her stance to throw her attacker’s body over her head.

But this surprise was at least somewhat expected—he must have come out of the bathroom—and she allowed the arms to continue to wrap around her, brushing against her skin not to grab her so much as to caress her, and she leaned back into the source of the embrace. 

“Ada.” His voice was just as she remembered it, maybe with a bit more of a scratch, but wear and tear was expected in his line of work. 

He didn’t say anything more because he had already buried his face into the crook of her neck, planting small kisses as he nuzzled close to her. She let out a sight sigh of pleasure and traced her hand over the one around her waist. “Leon.”

“I’ve missed you,” he said, or at least she thought he had said—his voice was muffled—between kisses.

“And I’ve missed _this_ ,” she said, lacing his fingers between his. “And all this for me. Leon, you really are a romantic.”

She pushed softly away from his embrace and turned to face hi. There was a slight scruff at this chin, and his eyes seemed just a bit more sunken than they had been before, but it had been… over a year since their last meeting. And despite the wear of the job, she could see his cool eyes locked on her, his ever-so-perfectly coiffed hair, and the reserved strength that she knew he had in those arms she’d just broken free of.

“Don’t forget who is in charge here,” she said, tracing a finger down the side of his face. He practically purred into her hand, and she placed it flat on his chest. “And despite all the romance you’ve planned, I wouldn’t want anyone over at the state department getting the wrong kind of idea about your vacation days…”

As she said this, she stepped forward and planted a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. He leaned in for more, but she pulled away, pressing back against his chest. “Did you get these flowers for me?” she asked, crossing to the table. “Purple isn’t really my color, but these are beautiful, I have to admit.”

“They’re morning glories,” he said. “I saw them and I thought of you.”

She grinned, coy, and broke away from him, leaning in to smell the flowers. She touched one of the leaves that was tucked in around the flowers. “And this…?”

“Acacia,” he said, moving toward her but pausing a few feet away. “Just to fill out the display.”

“Are you a florist now?”

“I thought I’d let you know what I got for you, that’s all,” he said.

“And don’t you think I didn’t bring anything for you,” she said. She pointed to the bed. “Lie down, on your back. But first…”

She stepped toward him, and he almost look a back-step. Maybe to steady himself, but she didn’t make any indication that she had noticed. _He must be pent up if he’s reacting like this_ , she thought, and moved in to kiss him. He hungrily reciprocated. As their lips met, she moved her hands down over his chest and stomach, stopping at the base of his shirt and pausing a moment before pulling up on it. He got the idea and let her pull his shirt free from his body.

Ada saw the slight tinge of red at the edge of his mouth from the bright red lipstick she was wearing. She grinned, liking that she left a bit of an imprint on him.

He dropped the shirt to the floor, and she placed her hand on his shoulder, her thumb slowly tracing the outline of the scar he had gotten now some twenty years ago, a scar that Leon had steadily added to with more scars across his body over time.

“Admiring your handiwork?” he asked.

“Oh no,” she replied. “This one was all you.”

“And it’s the only reason why you’re here,” he said. And he was right, in a way. When he’d taken that shot for her all those years ago, that was the seed that had blossomed into whatever this was. This agreement. This string of nights of passion. Detached, but connected all the same.

“Maybe,” she said, “but I still have something for you.”

He raised an eyebrow, and she pointed again to the bed.

He moved toward it slowly, stepping backward, not wanting to move his hand from where they’d settled at her waist, where her red dress—reminiscent of their first meeting, even—hugged her tightly. When the back of his knees bumped into the bed, he lowered himself down slowly, his hand holding to Ada’s waist, trying to pull her down with him. She placed a hand on his, however, and he released, allowing himself to lie down flat while she stood over him.

She raised a finger, indicating for him to wait, and she slowly pulled down the strap of her dress, revealing her bare shoulder, before pulling down the other strap as well. He pushed himself upward to get a better look at her tease. She reached back and pulled down the zipper in the back of her dress slowly, watching his eyes as they traced her body, up and down, and finally let her dress fall to the floor.

She stepped out of the dress and left it there, climbing up onto the bed atop Leon, her knees to each side of his waist. She was upright, wearing now only her black bra and matching black holster, and she saw the way that he had begun to prop himself up on his elbows to get a better look at her. She raised an eyebrow. “You know, just because I’m not wearing any panties doesn’t mean my eyes aren’t up here.”

He moved his eyes obediently upward, but she smirked and leaned down low. “Now,” she whispered in his ear as she planted her hand on either side of his head, brushing up against some of the petals he had spread out on the bed for atmosphere, “why don’t you take off my bra, but don’t get overzealous with your hands. Good things to those who wait.”

She brushed her cheek against his, her hair falling around his face, and arched her back downward to give him better access to the bra’s clasp. She could feel his breath hot against the side of her face, slightly ragged as she could feel him practically trembling with anticipation below her.

His hands were dexterous enough—a fact she gleefully ferreted away for later reference—and her bra was soon undone. She lifted herself back up and, upright, she pulled it off her arms and let it fall to the ground next to her dress.

While she did this, Leon reached for his waist as if to undo his pants, but she shook her head. “No,” she said, “not yet. You’ll get what you want in time.”

She could see the strained, almost pained expression on his face, and she knew from that if she bent her knees a bit more and lowered herself just a few inches, she would feel the strain at his waistband, too.

Instead, however, she allowed her hands to wander over his body, tracing a scar that she might have inflicted on him back in Spain or even the Eastern Slav Republic, then the shape of his collarbone, around his nipples, down over his abs, leading downward…

Leon’s head flopped back against the pillow, and she lowered herself down onto her elbows so that she was atop him on all fours, her breasts brushing against his chest as she kissed him, almost catching him by surprise as she sank her body lower, against his, as she kissed him. As soon as she had, however, she pulled up again, keeping her arms straight, as she continued to kiss him while holding back that physical contact which he so clearly craved.

He reached up with his arms—strong arms, she’d noted even when he had embraced her before—but she broke the kiss just long enough to say “No, not yet.” Hey lay his arm back down, limp, on the bed next to him.

Again, she dipped her body down low against his, grinding against him as she kissed him. His kisses grew more and more desperate, his breathing rough against her face as he tried to draw more and more out of each kiss.

She broke off the kiss, giving him a knowing smile as she sat back, resting against his body, knowing full well that the feeling of her ass against his crotch with nothing more than the fabric of his pants between them would be almost too much for him.

“Please, Ada…” he said, still catching his breath, and she realized that she liked how helpless he was, how his chest trembled as he his breathed how his hand almost twitched as he tried to hold them back from her. The haze of lust across his face, the red in his cheeks, and she knew that there must be some matching shade in her cheeks, as well.

“Well, because you asked so nicely,” she said, trialing off as she moved backward to stand again. He propped himself up on his elbows to see her, and she dropped slowly to her knees, rubbing one hand up his thigh while placing the other on his stomach, moving forward between his legs in order to pull on his waistband with her teeth. She looked up to him and made eye contact, his grin happy and overwhelmed—a much different sight than the seductive grin she was offering.

She stroked her hand on his thigh upward to meet the hand she traced downward from his stomach, trailing her soft fingertips the whole way, to undo his button and pull down his pants and underwear slowly.

She hummed in appreciation as she nuzzled the inside of his thigh before rising again, moving upward onto the bed, on her knees upright. He reached for her again, and she shook her head. Her hand went to her thigh, where her gun was still strapped. “I brought protection,” she said as she began to carefully undo the straps that held it to her leg. “Did you?”

Leon nodded, and after he had retrieved the condom from the bedside table, he hurriedly unwrapped it. She could feel the heat coming off him, and she knew that there was no room in his mind, or in any other part of his body for that matter, for anything but his desire for her.

“Leon, I…”

But she didn’t have to opportunity to say anything more because Leon’s grip tightened on her thighs, and she knew that she didn’t need to.

* * *

She was gone before morning.

He was awake when she left—he always was. But he never let her know. She was the spy, after all, and he didn’t want to let her think that her cover was blown. They had an arrangement. An agreement. And he wasn’t about to mess that all up. Not by doing the one thing she’d warned him about at the start…

He rose from bed, a chill wracking his still-nude body, and he swung his legs over the side. His feet met the petals still on the floor, a little wilted now because they had stepped on already, and his gaze immediately went to the vase on the side table.

The arrangement was mostly there, but it was clear that a few of the blooms had been taken. Ada was a master thief, after all, and she’d stolen more from him than just a few flowers before.

Basically everything she’d ever stolen from him, he had first offered up, anyway. The flowers were for her—they always were.

He sighed, and he could feel the shudder in his chest as it came out as a wheeze. He was happy he hadn’t coughed last night. He was worried that he would.

It was stupid, it all was, because he knew the deal. He knew what their relationship was like. Casual. Sexual. Related to their work sometimes. But that was where the passion ended. They had agreed on that a long time ago.

He let out another wheezing breath and moved toward the bathroom, where his hands gripped the cold counter and he looked up at himself, his eyes sunken beneath his flop of blond hair. He let out another rumbling wheeze and felt a striking pain in his throat and chest as he coughed once, not enough to do anything about the wheeze that was all too familiar to him. He coughed again, and this time, he could feel something loose within him.

One more, and this caught caused his whole body to shake, his knuckles going white as he gripped tighter against the countertop. He could feel the spittle on his lips, and the flit of a few leaves and petals as they fell out of his mouth and into the sink. He tried to clear his throat, but it seemed like that wasn’t enough. He coughed again, a series of coughs in succession, and he could feel the way the plants were digging their hold in him deeper than they ever had before, deeper than they had when he was younger.

A mess of leaves and petals fell from his mouth, whole blooms of morning glories and acacia, tangled together. He could smell the flowers and taste the sharp metallic tang of blood in the back of his throat, as if he was sucking wind after a long run.

He breathed heavy for a moment before raising his head, his hair hanging limply against his now-sweating forehead, and he noticed that a trickle of blood trailed out of the corner of his mouth. He absently wiped it away with the back of his hand.

The flowers had been coming for what, twenty years now? But not like this. And usually…

Usually they shrank back after he met with Ada.

He let out a wheezing aftercough, feeling the constricting pain in his chest, and felt suddenly cold.

But not anymore.

Not that it was her fault, though. She may have planted the seed, but he’d always known the arrangement.

**Author's Note:**

> > "The one acting a fool is not  
> I can feel it in my heart  
> Silence is the loudest shot  
> A train passing in the dark  
> All I do is wonder why  
> Why and how you leave me every night?"
> 
>   
> -The Kills, "Days of Why and How"
> 
> * * *
> 
> Acacia can stand for a secret love. Morning glory can stand for affection, or for love in vain.


End file.
